Those are just the ones I found doing a quick search. I know I've written about this parish and its pastor plenty of times. In fact, should MY pastor ever figure out I've got a blog, he might be inclined to think I'm playing favorites. *Grin*

Truth be told, you guys know I love my priests - all of them. And I view each of them as gifts. I adore my pastor, but I try not to write about my actual home parish for privacy reasons.

That being said, I LOVE this priest, and I love the community he has built up in Collingswood. If you're ever lucky enough to find yourself in S. Jersey and in need of an evening Mass, stop on by. Fr. John will welcome you with open arms and an educational homily that stirs both your intellect and your heart.

God bless him, he's a true pastor in this regard. He takes time to teach his parishioners, and he teaches straight from his super-sized heart.

He doesn't just teach during the homily, either. He pointed out the liturgical colors of the 4th Sunday at the beginning of Mass, and also touched on why the readings and music were thematically different from those we hear the rest of Lent.

After all, we've now reached the midway point. Though we still face the night, we see dawn on the horizon. The light of the Resurrection - Christ's triumph over sin and death - is awaiting us should we persevere in His Way just a little longer.

The music director chose an entrance song I'd never heard before. I snapped a photo of the missal after Mass so I wouldn't forget it. Have any of you (barring Frank K. or his wife who, I feel, have a terribly unfair advantage - ha!) ever heard of it?

I thought it was a great balance between the solemness of Lent and the hopeful supplication we offer for the promise of the Resurrection. I absolutely BUTCHERED the music (sorry, Congregation), but I was appreciative of the thoughtfulness put into the selection.

The Recessional Hymn was a favorite from childhood - Lead Me, Lord. All you trads out there, try not to roll your eyes too much at me. I enjoy uplifting songs at the end of Mass, especially when they are warranted and flow with the message of Mass. This was perfect.Offertory / Communion songs were also fitting. Kudos to the music director - really. In truth, he always does a great job, but last night's selections were just so spot on that I couldn't help but say a prayer of thanks for his subtle highlighting of theme.

But back to the pastor. His homily was STELLAR. He's a homilist who can happily run on for 20 minutes. Best part? He's a homilist you don't mind listening to if he does stretch his time. I love that he's not worried about keeping within a restrictive time limit. He's not afraid to expound or share anecdotes that color God's movements in his life. He shares what's in his heart and what's in his heart is a complete reflection of the Gospel message.

He made a great point about "the poor" last night. So often we talk about "the poor" during Lent, offering prayers and alms for "the poor." We need to shift our view and recognize them as "our poor." These people belong to us. They are our responsibility and God gifted them to us as ways to act in the name of Divine Providence. We can and must reach out with love to these brothers and sisters. I just found that reflection to be beautiful.

Alright, I'm gonna stop now because I'll just wax poetic for another mindless 10 paragraphs. I'll spare you, but be warned... I'll likely be bringing up BTC in the future. BTC and Mary, Mother of the Church (St. Rita's Parish) are my two buddies. If I'm not at my home parish (which I also love), I'm hanging out with one of them.

{BIG HUGS} and a heartfelt "Thanks" to those of you who sent messages, e-mails and prayers on Friday. It turned out to be a wonderful, beautiful day that was far removed from the fear and anxiety I had felt leading up to it.

No doubt this was a result of your love and prayers. Thank you!!!

Here are some of the items Vince and I brought to one of our local children's hospitals on Friday.

It was a very fun experience.

Vince had helped pick out the majority of these toys (which is why there are so many Ninja Turtle things for the boys). The chair that has the stuff piled up is almost exclusively Ninja Turtles. I kept pulling girly stuff into the basket so they wouldn't feel left out with all the stuff geared to boys! What a joy it was putting this basket of goodies together, though... especially with Vince. He understood that he was going to be giving these things to other children to "make them happy."

After school, I picked him up we drove over to the hospital. He was excitedly chatting about how he was going to share all "his toys." It made me really happy that he was so excited about our little adventure. That he willingly participated in charitable giving made me feel like I was doing something right as a parent. God bless his little generous heart.

When we got there, security had us wait in the lobby for a nurse to come for us. While in the lobby, Vince had a field day hopping on and around the turtle statues in the waiting area.

Before we'd even gotten upstairs, Vincent began trying to share the toys with random children in the lobby. One little boy, in particular, drew Vincent's attention. His name was Antonio and he was 3 years old. Antonio was there with his mother, and Vincent hurriedly ran up to him and said, "Hi! I'm Vincent. What is you name?"

Vince didn't wait to hear a "Hi." He just started rambling off, "Hi Ann-toe-nee-o. Do you want to share with my toys? I give some to you!"

And without hesitating, he rummaged through our bags until he came upon a set of blocks. I stopped him from handing them off until I asked his mother if it would be alright.

She looked confused so I said, "It's okay. We're here today specifically to donate these toys. Would it be okay if Vincent gave Antonio the blocks?"

His mom nodded her head and smiled down at Antonio. She said, "Look, Antonio, blocks! You love blocks! Thank your new friend."

Antonio was quite baffled that he was being given blocks. He reached out happily for them, but wasn't sure if he should open them or not. Vince made the decision for him and began to pull at the box.

I said, "Hold on, Vince. You gotta ask his mom if that's OK."

Vince stopped and looked at Antonio's mom. She shook her head yes, and Vince went to work opening the box. He and Antonio played for about thirty seconds before Vince decided he wanted to give more toys to other kids.

I was beginning to worry they'd be gone before the nurse came to collect us!

Luckily she arrived a few minutes later and we took our goodies upstairs. I don't have any pictures of the joy behind those doors for obvious reasons (patient privacy being chief among them), but suffice to say the smiles and hugs and laughter will remain etched in my heart forever.

I really think Vince gained so much from the experience, and I know the kids (and their families) enjoyed seeing him bounce around like a mini-Santa Claus.

We gave a different set of books / toys to another nurse so she could take them to the kids too sick for us to visit with, then it was time to go.

All in all, it was a fantastic experience. It really was. I highly recommend volunteering your time at a children's hospital if at all possible. There is just SUCH joy there. The children, though sick, have such joyful, loving hearts. And they're SO appreciative of even tiny gestures like coloring books or matchbox cars. What's more, their families instantly welcome you as part of their circle. They, too, are so beyond gracious for the time you're willing to spend with them and their children - I was incredibly moved. They are a special group of people.

I've tried writing this out a few times. I almost feel silly for admitting it, but each time I've tried, my fingers shook so badly that I just gave up.

Tomorrow, March 28th, would have been Myla's due date.

Instead of looking forward to this date with love, excitement and baby chatter, I've lived in a bubble of silence, grief and terror.

I was absolutely terrified of tomorrow, but I haven't told that to anyone. No one. Even the thought of bringing it up caused me to shake with anxiety. Too many emotions and not enough control is a recipe for tears, so I requested off from work a while back expecting to spend Friday hiding in my bed away from the world. At least there I could cry in peace. Under my covers I could give vent to the very real, very present grief that still exists in my heart for her, my sweet baby girl who flew off to Heaven before I got the chance to meet her.

However, the last few weeks of mental preparation have led me down a different path altogether. I decided that hiding away in my bed was a very selfish thing to do. It was also, in my mind, very ungrateful. After all, God granted me the blessing of another child. Not only did He grant me the grace of another child, He granted me the grace of a Saint. He took her to Heaven before she'd ever know pain, sadness or disappointment. He gave to her everything a mother could ever hope for: love, immeasurable joy, and life eternal. He even went out of His way to ensure John would come to know Myla. To allow my grief to blind me to those gifts is an ungrateful thing indeed.

So what was I to do? How could I sidestep my broken heart on the day that taunted me with the one whom I lost?

I e-mailed a local children's hospital. I filled out paperwork to become a volunteer. I purchased a whole bunch of children's joke books, coloring books, pop-up books and small toys and I put them aside for March 28th.

I decided that instead of mourning that she was taken from me, I'll celebrate that she was given to me at all.

That I held her for even a few short weeks is a blessing. That she'll remain a part of me forever... that I have her waiting in Heaven to greet me... that she's always looking on us with love and prayer... that she's happy to intercede for us always and in all things... these are all graces I should be grateful for. I won't allow fear of the 28th blind me to those blessings.

Thus, the 28th has become something I've timidly begun looking forward to. I'm still scared I'll react differently when tomorrow rolls around, but knowing I've got folks already looking forward to getting a dose of fun will likely make it easier for me to push past the fear and reach out with love. I don't want to disappoint them.

Plus, I feel it's only fair that I repay God's kindness in some small way. Bringing joy to His other children is a pretty good way, in my mind, to do that. I'm sure Myla approves.

I had the breast cancer scare which led to a cervical cancer diagnosis, subsequent treatment, and eventual eradication (hopefully forever).

John began his own highly successful sports league while juggling movie production and his regular job.

We watched several close friends struggle through divorce, which inevitably rocked our own marriage, especially for John.

We gained a daughter, Myla, and lost her to miscarriage. That, itself, was a terrible trial for John and myself.

We finally put the pieces of the "Vince Puzzle" together and started seeking therapy for his Sensory Processing Disorder. We also went through the trials of school and daycare - dear Lord... what a process!

We had to say goodbye to folks we love and care about.

So these, among other random bits, have caused us to grow, change, and love more deeply. Looking back at this journey has made me so incredibly appreciative of the marriage I have and the friends and family who have supported us these last ten years.

As a result, I want to throw a special party this year. It's only our 7th year as a married couple, but it's our 10th together as a couple.

I want to throw a fire hall banquet, invite all those who have supported us through love, prayer and example and celebrate the blessings they've all been to John and I.

I want this to serve as both a THANK YOU to our family and friends for being so supportive over the years, and as a "Marriage is Worth It!" witness.

So many of those in our group of friends are incredibly jaded about the institution of marriage. They are vehemently against marriage on the grounds that it's an archaic, pointless practice that only ends in divorce, they are indifferent, or they look at marriage as something they can't do until they've amassed enough golden eggs (whether that be money, a house, career satisfaction, etc). Very few of our friends look at marriage as a sacrament of power, love and beauty.

That makes me sad. It really does.

So while I want to thank everyone for their support of us, I also want to show our friends that marriage IS something worth investing in. And once you are married, it's worth fighting for. It's a constant choice to love one another, every day. The honeymoon fades and the cutesy names will sometimes turn sour. However, with support and love, a married couple can weather the natural dips in romance and find a deeper, truer connection than they started out with.

When I asked John if he'd be OK with this, he was, but thought the idea of "throwing ourselves a party" was tacky. He said he'd feel like an idiot explaining to people the purpose of the celebration.

I can understand his hesitation. I mean, who the heck throws a 7th anniversary party? To me, though, it's perfect timing. Usually the 7th year is associated with the "7 Year Itch" in which couples are often teased about the eventuality of affairs stemming from the stagnation of marital relations.

For us, this 7th year - though incredibly emotional - has been anything but stagnant. John and I love one another better now than we ever have.

And I say "better" because we both make the conscious decision to be better spouses to each other.

So I do want to celebrate that, especially given the fact that we have the added bonus of me being cancer-free (assuming the annual test comes back clear which I'm sure it will).

We've got a lot to be thankful for, and I feel my gratitude overflowing. As such, I want to use it to thank others and share those blessings we've received with others.

Is a party a bad idea? Do you think maybe I should rethink how I go about doing this? I'm not looking for gifts or anything. I don't want anything from anyone. I want to do this FOR everyone. Our anniversary just happens to provide a perfect backdrop.

I was talking on the phone to a friend when she asked me how I always chalked up "coincidence" to God. Everything that happens in life, regardless of situation, is somehow attributed to God in one way or another.

Now we were on the phone with one another, but I absolutely heard the eye roll, and I called her on it. I asked, "Why is that so hard to believe?"

She said it was arrogant to think that God would waste His time giving me these little "signs of love" when there were people starving all over the world. She felt I was thinking too highly of myself. God doesn't do little things (or, I guess, in her mind, He shouldn't do little things when there were BIG THINGS to be done!).

My mind immediately thought back to that story of the little boy and the starfish. Have you heard it?

Moral of the story is that what may seem a little, insignificant act to you is, in fact, a life-changer for the one receiving the act.

And I fully believe that God, the same God who condescended to become human... to lower His Divinity to take upon and raise up the dignity of Humanity... of COURSE He would seek to send us a constant stream of loving gestures throughout our lives... even the life of someone ordinary and mundane like me.

The reason I think she presumes my arrogance is that I publicly acknowledge these little love notes. However, I don't write about them to say "Look how special I am because God keeps doing all these cool things for me!"

Instead, I'm writing them because I'm grateful that God takes such an active role in our lives. He's not only doing these things for me, people. He does them for each and every one of us EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.

And you don't have to view your life as a Where's Waldo puzzle to understand that. God's love notes to us aren't hidden behind colorful characters or disguised with a striped shirt and glasses.

God's love is all around us. He doesn't keep His love hidden from us! We don't have to play seek-and-find for it! We, however, are like children who are oblivious to Mom's constant labor to keep our clothes laundered, food on the table, and school work in order. We do not understand how active God is in keeping our lives filled with joy.

Even I, who apparently writes about His love too often (as if such a thing is possible!), am negligent in recognizing His constant stream of love. We will never understand the personal attention God pays to us every second of every day. Never.

But it's still good to try!

After all, how appreciated and loved do our parents feel when we acknowledge the things that, upon reflection, were worth so much than we'd ever given them credit for? God, too, appreciates (and reciprocates) the love we give Him through our gratitude.

And yes, I really believe God is so personally active in my life. That doesn't make me arrogant, though, because I know He's just as personally active in your life, too. In everyone's lives. We are ALL His children.

And we'd all do well to remember that (and thank Him for it!) every now and again.

Today was Nanny's funeral. She passed away last week surrounded by her children.

God is good in that He allowed her to let go while holding the hands of those who loved her so much.

She is at peace.

Throughout my vigils while she was in the hospital or in hospice care, I would pray with her. I'd say, "Nanny, offer up everything as Purgatory on earth. This way, when you see Jesus come for you, you can fly right to Him. You fly RIGHT TO HIM."

She opened her eyes at one point and I knew that she understood. As the priest said today at her funeral, Nanny's path to Heaven was well-worn with prayer. She knew Jesus and no doubt offered up her last moments in union with Him. I really believe she went straight to Heaven as a result.

The funeral was held at St. Edmond's again - just like Uncle Billy's. Nanny, too, was lucky to have her final Mass said in such a beautiful church.

I was asked to do the 2nd Reading and General Intercessions. You folks know I don't like going into the sanctuary for any reason (so I gave up duties as a lector), but I didn't want to turn down my mother-in-law when she asked. I willingly offered myself for any and all roles they wanted me to handle. One less thing on their plate to worry about...

The reading was fine. The funeral intercessions always give me a tough time because they focus heavily on the grieving family. I had to read them at my own Grandmom's funeral, and I remember faltering over words because I was trying to contain my tears. Today, I fought the same battle, especially when I read the intercession to pray for those who passed before Nanny and who welcomed her into Heaven.

I thought of Myla, and I knew Nanny had gotten to meet her.

As I made my way back to my seat, I asked Nanny to hold her and kiss her for me. Nanny responded by sending me a tiny white carnation at Communion.

After I received the Eucharist, I turned to walk back to my seat when I saw this small white flower on the sanctuary floor. I knew it was mine. It was as if I recognized my wallet or saw my purse hanging off the back of a chair. Instantly I stooped down - without thinking - to pick up my flower.

As soon as I held it, I realized it was from Nanny. I believe it was her way of letting me know she'd heard my prayer. She sent me my favorite flower - a carnation - in pure white, a sign of innocence. And given how tiny it was, I knew it was for Myla.

I must've thanked God for this favor a million times. I was so appreciative of this gesture of love.

I was holding John's hand, so I slipped the tiny bud between our intertwined fingers. This is what it looked like:

See how tiny it is in comparison to our hands? This tiny bloom of life briefly held, again, between the two of us. It was just very, very special to me.

Little boy wants to dress up like Daphne from Scooby Doo and his mom posts, in the title of her entry, that this implies he's gay.

But no worries, because in the body of the entry, you realize that was simply a bait. She then writes "Or he's not. I don't care. He is still my son. And he is 5. And I am his mother. And if you have a problem with anything mentioned above, I don't want to know you."

I remember when I first read that feeling offended for her. How could ANYONE dare to have a problem with this? Who would think to be so callous as to spout anything negative at a little boy who just wants to dress up for Halloween? Even if it is a little odd.

Now that the feeds have been absolutely SATURATED with stories like this, I've learned to put my critical reasoning skills to better use.

She, like every other blogger after her, sets the stage for inevitable conflict. They want the conflict; it drives stats. I refuse to post the litany of these articles because I refuse to give them a bump in referral hits.

Now I just roll my eyes and pass on them. They're all the same. Each demanding respect for allowing their boys to dress as girls and play with My Little Pony dolls, or steering their girls away from pink things and more towards "boy toys" like race cars and Legos. We've all seen them. It's just...

C'mon now.

Instead of trying to dictate what our kids play with in an attempt to show how forward-thinking we are about gender-stereotypes, how about we just let them be kids who like to play with toys of any sort?

And how about we stop patting ourselves on the back for going out of our way to confuse the very clear distinctions between the two sexes. No matter how many bags of lip gloss your son wants to have, he's going to be a little boy. No matter how many Wrestlemanias your daughter begs to go to, she's still going to be a little girl.

And no matter how many times you allow your son to dress in skirts or your daughter to pull on boxers, their biology will remain unaltered. That includes sex change operations and hormone injections.

Also, this sort of gender confusion does not necessarily mean your child is gay. But again, throwing that into the mix is a great way to solicit a jump in stats.

*Shakes head*

We need to have open, honest communication on this topic. Blog posts like those I reference above are not helpful. If anything, they're harmful because they seek to divide. They seek to cause in-fighting and paranoia (everyone's out to get me and my son because we're different!). There are children in serious jeopardy because of this confusion, and patting ourselves on the backs for the bang-up job we're doing with this saturation of gender confusion is not the right course of action. It's just not.

I don't have the answer on how best to respond to this growing trend, but I just can't take the constant stream of articles that decry any sort of acknowledgement that boys and girls (and thus, men and women) are different; they are. Does that mean that they are not equals? No; they have equal dignity. But they are inherently different from one another. Consistently ignoring that (and worse... teaching our children to actively ignore it) is a grave error.

We are hurting our children way, WAY more than we are helping them. That much is apparent. We are teaching them it's okay to disregard facts - scientific facts - and create an alternate reality that they then expect everyone else to go along with. I can't imagine that being a good coping strategy for such a real, all-areas-of-life entrenched problem.

I just don't have clue one where to begin, or even how to protect my son from falling victim to this sort of confusion. It's like parents are expected (and even bullied into) encouraging this sort of behavior.

I was recently invited to a birthday party with my son in which the parent informed me the boys would be dressing up as princesses alongside the girls.

No thank you. I opted to decline that one. Vince is curious about women's clothing sometimes (my veil and bras come to mind), but I would not actively encourage him cross dressing, ESPECIALLY at such a young age.

These are a few excerpts from my favorite book on St. Joseph, written by the visionary Sr. Maria Cecilia Baij, O.S.B., Abbess of the Benedictine Convent of St. Peter in Montefiascone, Italy (1743-1766).

Normally this book sells for $60 via Amazon.

101Foundation.com sells it for less than $10. I highly, HIGHLY recommend this book. It gave me such a new love for St. Joseph, and I have since developed quite the devotion to him, especially through his incredibly loving devotion to the Blessed Mother and little Jesus.

I hope you enjoy!

Joseph of Egypt and St. Joseph

[Joseph of Egypt] was the prototype of our Joseph. As [Joseph of Egypt] had been loved more than all the other children by his father, so our Joseph was loved by God the Father more than any other male creature, since He had predestined him to be the father of His Incarnate Word and the spouse of the Mother of the Son of God. Joseph of Egypt was invested by his father in a costly garment; our Joseph was adorned by the Heavenly Father with sanctifying grace...

Joseph of Egypt explained the meaning of dreams; our Joseph possessed an angel companion who instructed him in his dreams and advised him what he should do to please God and accomplish His will.

The one was a representative of the king of Egypt; our Joseph was the representative of God in the Egypt of the world. The one remained faithful to the Lord in that he left another's spouse untouched; our Joseph remained loyal to the Holy Spirit, in that he never violated the physical integrity of the Latter's spouse and his own - nay, more, he even became the guardian of her purity.

The one preserved the harvest of grain for the benefit of the Egyptian people; our Joseph was the protector of that Life which was destined to be the Wheat of the elect, the nourishment and strength of the faithful. The one was a source of consolation for his parents and the whole of Egypt; our Joseph was a source of consolation to the Divine Word, Whom he nourished by means of his labours and sweat, and to the Mother of Jesus in all Her journeyings. He was, and still is, a consolation for all faithful souls in their necessities, especially at the hour of death.

St. Joseph as Protector of the travelling Holy Family

Oh how sad and disconsolate Joseph would become, because of Jesus and Mary! He would attempt to arrange his cloak as a roof over their heads. The Saint managed to do this with such love and skillfulness, that it seemed to Them, They were actually in a tiny hut.

Underneath this covering Jesus and Mary would spend the night quite happily, for they were supremely content in such a state of poverty. Joseph was stricken with anguish over the things Jesus and Mary endured, and his own inability to help Them in their poverty and in Their other serious needs.

Whenever Joseph found himself in such an extremity, he had recourse to the Heavenly Father and begged Him not to consider how unworthy he was to be His servant, but to consider the needs of His Divine Son and of Mary, and in view of this, to provide for Them.

St. Joseph Called "Father" by Jesus for the 1st Time

Upon seeing Joseph, He called out to him: "Father!" and then flung Himself into his arms and caressed him with His tiny hands.

The joy of hearing himself called "father" for the first time moved Joseph to tears. He considered himself to be wholly unworthy of it, and he made it very evident how grateful he was for the honor that the child Jesus was giving him by doing so. He ardently thanked the holy Child, and besought his most holy spouse also to give thanks in his behalf to God and to His Son...

Being thus called, "father," by the Child Jesus, proved to be, for Joseph, a continuing source of comfort, because on every such occasion he felt his heart forcibly drawn to Jesus and increasingly filled with love for Him. He often found diversion in speaking to Mary of the immense condescension that was being shown to him by Jesus, and he gave Her to understand what effects it produced in his soul...

Joseph did not venture to address Jesus as his Son, though his paternal love made him feel most desirous of doing so. He asked Mary if it would be proper for him to address Jesus in this manner. Mary ascertained from Jesus that, inasmuch as He Himself deigned to call Joseph, "father," and also assigned him to his paternal position here upon earth, He thereby granted him the privilege of calling Him "Son." He furthermore declared that it was the will of the Heavenly Father that He, Jesus, should make Himself subject in this manner to Joseph, just as if He were truly his own offspring, and that consequently, Joseph should freely address Him as "Son" and deal with Him as if he were His real father.

Joseph's heart was jubilant as Mary transmitted these things to him, and he shed copious tears as a result of the consolations that he experienced. At the same time, he gave thanks to God, in union with Mary. To himself he remarked: "I am indeed blessed in being the possessor of this delightful privilege which allows me to address the Divine Incarnate Word, the Son of the Eternal Father, as "my Son."

These are two of the biggest parades in the world that celebrate St. Patrick's life and legacy. Of COURSE these yahoos would take it upon themselves to instigate trouble when they'd have a worldwide audience.

I just hate that companies and politicians went and supported this stupidity without stopping to question the legitimacy of those doing the whining.

They're upset because they can't run around with banners labeling them as gay? Cry me a rainbow river, why don't you?

Pro-Life groups can't march under a banner any more than gay groups can. Where are all the pro-life unions that are decrying that their dignity is being threatened? Where are all the Italian-Americans? Where are all the lovers of ice-cream and chocolate? The pro-puppy groups?

Oh yeah - none of them have anything to gain by feigning discrimination. None of them are looking to bait an entire population into feeling sorry for them.

ARGH - I'm so sick of people stupidly falling for this. How did our population come to exchange common sense and critical reasoning for Kim Kardashian and buzz words?

ARGH!!!

ARGH!!!

ARGH!!!

I'm just so beyond done with always being labeled a bigot or a homophobe because I see this for the charade it so blatantly is.

This sort of fake discrimination touted by the gay lobby is BLATANTLY FALSE and no one seems to care. Why does no one care?!?!?!

These are my in-laws. I love them both. Ridiculous amounts. I always have. I've always respected their love for each other and their family. I've learned a lot about marriage just from watching them interact. I've learned a lot about John that way, too, let me tell ya. He's got so many traits that he shares with his Dad that watching his mom interact with her husband has given me a few ideas how to go about interacting with John.

:)

Anyway, given the incredibly emotional coaster this family has been on the last few weeks, I've been dying to see them and just hug them close. Natural circumstances prevented this, but when we DID finally see each other, I was so happy to just physically hug them. However, Dad wasn't too keen on any sort of emotional exchange. He was probably too drained from grieving Uncle Billy and worrying over his mother's rapidly declining health. Also, given his status as the leader of the family, he took upon himself the responsibility of shouldering the fear and anxiety of his brothers and sister.

Oh, how my heart breaks for him. He always takes on so much responsibility. But again, it's something I deeply respect him for. He goes out of his way to make things easier for his family, but at such personal sacrifice.

However, he doesn't like to let on that his strength wavers, too. Instead of reaching out, he'll vent in short, off-the-cuff ways. I want so much to help him, but I can't just say, "Dad, I love you. Punch the wall and yell at me if it'll make you feel better."

I'd love to, mind you, but I can't. He'd never let on that he's hurting, and I would never make things worse by letting on that I know.

But I still want to support him. So I'm supporting him the best way I know how - through his wife, my mother-in-law.

In the car on the way back from Uncle Billy's funeral, my FIL had to make a tough decision. My MIL said something that I pray will stick with me until my final days.

My FIL had to decide if he'd go away for a few days on business or if he'd stay behind in case Nanny passed away. He asked my MIL what she thought, and her response was beautiful. She basically said she would go wherever he decided because no matter what, she wanted to be with HIM when and if he got news about Nanny.

It was then that I realized I could support him by supporting her. She was, is and always will be, his rock. They are incredibly blessed to have found one another.

She knows her place is with him so that she can support him in any way that she can. She wants to be there, holding his hand, letting him cry, even letting him get mad at her so he could, in some tiny way, vent the torrent of emotion eating away at his heart.

I actually teared up when she said that. It was so loving... so perfect... that is what I want my response to be to John always. Whatever you decide, I will stand by you. I will be with you because that is where I need to be. I want you to know that you will always have me to lean on.

Such love. Such incredible, faithful love.

So I made it my personal mission to support him by supporting her. Since she'll be bearing the weight of the world in conjunction with him, I can lend my assistance to her. I might not be able to reach my FIL the way I'd like, but I can reach my MIL, and if she's a little less stressed and a little more rested, she can be a better support for him.

I love these two immensely. I really do. I wish I could do something to magically wave a wand and make life perfect again, but we all must endure this valley of tears. Thankfully, God gifted us families so we could walk this valley together and not alone.

When I walked into St. Edmond's Church in S. Philly, I was stunned to absolute silence when I saw the sanctuary.

I didn't even notice the flowers (which says a lot given they spilled out of the sanctuary and up two aisles different aisles). I was absolutely taken by the giant mural of Calvary, the breathtaking statues of depicting the Crucifixion.

Just... wow.

At first, I didn't even notice Mary Magdalene at the foot of the Cross. You can barely make her out from the iPhone photo above. But she's there, clinging to Christ's Cross, grieved for the suffering He endured. The Blessed Mother's face was sad but intensely loving - as if she wanted to soothe His suffering with arrows of Love shot directly from her broken heart. Poor St. John just looks humble and awestruck... as if he's just beginning to understand what Jesus meant all those times He said He'd have to leave him and the other disciples.

Christ, for His part, is displayed with His arms outstretched and both hands with three fingers raised. Behind Him, on the mural, is painted Jerusalem. A storm is raging as no doubt the veil of the Temple is being torn in two.

It was by contemplating this sanctuary that I realized Christ was forced out of the earthly Jerusalem in order to open the gates of the Heavenly Jerusalem to us.

He exiled Himself from Heaven to come to Earth in order to come back again the Victor over death.

I love this sanctuary! What a powerful visual. I'm still in awe - even through a terrible iPhone photo!

Above this scene is a mural of the Coronation of Mary. It's dark, but you can see it here:

The angel to the left is kneeling and holding a banner that reads "Hail Mary, Queen of Heaven." The other angels are kneeling and blessing God for her triumph over sin to become Queen of Heaven.

The Trinity is present (even though you can't make out the Holy Spirit - sorry). Beneath them are seven gorgeous stained glass windows, each one depicting a Sacrament.

I found this art setup to be ingenious. Your eye is drawn up to the Heavens, but your focus is always on the Crucifixion.

It's just beautiful.

I'll have to stop back at this church with a real camera at some point. You can tell the parishioners take incredibly good care of it. Everything is impeccable. Uncle Billy was blessed to have his final Mass said in such a beautiful place of worship. I hope others attending the funeral felt a little closer to God... a little more understanding of His love... as a result of seeing these incredible works of sacred art.

Forgive my tardiness. I had originally planned to post this Giveaway on Friday, but Uncle Billy's funeral went longer than I had anticipated.

However, here it is!

I'm excited to announce that I'll be giving away four different crucifixes, each a beautiful bit or art.

First up is this amazing Stations of the Cross crucifix. The little boxes each depict a different station. It's small enough to really use as a prayer tool, but it's obviously great to hang on the wall, too.

I just found the size perfect to keep by my bedside for personal prayer. It's like having the Stations of the Cross in my parish church right in the palm of my hand!

So for Lent, I thought this was a very fitting prize for those looking to deepen their understanding of (and appreciation for) Christ's Passion.

It's just magnificent.

Next in line is a dream for those devotees of Divine Mercy. St. Faustina joins Christ as Divine Mercy onto this wood cross. The "shine" you see is the reflective gold paint the artist used to create a border and accents.

Three doting cherubs look down in wonder at the gift of Divine Mercy while St. Faustina is consistently at prayer for all of her "poor souls."

This is the largest crucifix in the giveaway, standing at 12" high, this would be great as an entryway crucifix. It is bold, different, and a great reminder that Christ's death, though terrible, was, in fact, a gift of Divine Mercy. He died not to condemn, but to reconcile.

Again, sorry for the glare. I was taking these images with an iPhone, so not all of them came out as nicely as I'd hoped.

Anyway, this is a truly beautiful crucifix. It's called an "Archangels Crucifix" because of the presence of St. Gabriel (holding the lillies to signify purity and truth), St. Raphael (holding a staff to represent healing) and St. Michael at the foot of the cross defeating the serpent. At the top, these three archangels lead the "host of angels" behind them in prayer and contemplation of the Triune Sacrifice a the center of the cross.

This colorful cross is about 6" high and is STUNNING.

Finally, we have this little guy.

This is a small cross depicting the Trinity in all their infamous iconic appearances. Each branch of the cross contains a different variation on well-known iconography of the Most Holy Trinity.

I love this because of the way it forces folks to remember that we didn't just sacrifice Christ on Calvary. The sacrifice was a TRIUNE sacrifice. God the Father and the Holy Spirit took just as much an active role in this mercy as Jesus. This beautiful cross depicts their loving, united relationship so wonderfully.

Even at only 3.5" it packs a powerful punch!

Okay, so now that you've seen these beauties, directions on how to enter are below!

Congratulations to Jenny S.! Her book suggestion in the comments section garnered her the winning entry!

Thank you so much to those who participated. The next Lenten Giveaway will be up by Friday. This will be a larger giveaway (4 items!) and will follow a theme. For a teaser, check out the photo under the Rafflecopter Winner Announcement.

Almost 30 years ago, my mother-in-law suffered a miscarriage. I've known this for almost as long as I've known John. She never hid it, but it's not something she runs around telling everyone about, either.

When she talks about her children, she sometimes mentions that there was a "miss" between John and his two younger sisters.

The first few times she mentioned this miscarriage, I was surprised. Miscarriages, to me, were something that didn't happen anymore.

However, ever since hearing about this missing Guarnere child, I've thought of him often.

I say "him" because that's what I've always pictured him to be - John's little brother. I've prayed to him plenty of times. I have little doubt he's in Heaven, too.

I imagine we've got quite the family reunion waiting for us on the other side of the veil.

Anyway, I bring this up now because I've been thinking of him a WHOLE lot recently. It might very well be because of Myla, but I think it has more to do with requesting prayers for his big brother than anything else.

Also, I've been thinking about telling my MIL about Myla, especially given her experience losing her child. One day we'll have coffee and I'll tell her about the granddaughter she's got waiting for her in Heaven. One day.

My MIL is a pretty amazing woman. She follows after her mother, Gram, and has a heart of gold, just like her. I'm blessed to have married into this family. I really am.

﻿Don’t read this entry if you are fans of How I Met Your Mother if you are not also fully up-to-date on the show.

Don’t read this entry if you’re sick of hearing me talk about miscarriage.

Also don’t read this if you don’t want to know about my intimate relationship with my husband. I will briefly discuss sex and the role I think it sometimes plays in marriage.

Finally, don’t read this if you happen to be my mother, ‘cause you just can’t unread some things.

﻿Okay? Okay.﻿﻿

Last night, John and I were watching the latest episode of HIMYM (again, if you don’t want spoilers, STOP READING THIS). I’ve always loved the characters of Marshall and Lily. For those of you who don’t know the show, Marshall and Lily are college sweethearts who consistently exemplify unconditional and sacrificial love. They really are the perfect example of what marriage should look like, and I love that the writers have always been dedicated to the success of that relationship.

I’ve always related to Lily’s character. She is a strong woman with very maternal instincts. She loves her husband deeply, adores children, is brutally honest when necessary, and is fiercely loyal to her friends. She's even a teacher! Lily is me with red hair and a much hotter body.

Anyway, in last night’s episode, we come to find out that Lily has been harboring a secret. I immediately said to John,“She’s pregnant!”

Turns out I was right. The way the writers allowed the story to unfold was beautiful. Marshall, upon learning he was going to be a Daddy again, rushed to Lily’s side and confronted her with the news. However, he didn’t confront her angrily. Instead, he was emotional – 120% caught up in anticipation, hope, joy, and above all, love. Love for Lily, love for his son, and love for the new life he and Lily had created.

And when Lily said she “just felt like” the baby was a girl, I was instantly a wreck. I chewed my lip to the point of bleeding trying to keep myself from openly sobbing in front of John, but he saw I was upset and came to sit next to me on the couch to hug me. He probably thought I was crying over Myla.

In truth, I sorta was, but my tears were lamenting more than miscarriage.

Marshall said something that stabbed my heart. The exchange came after a very emotional argument Marshall and Lily had regarding moving to Italy vs. staying in the States (pitting Lily’s dreams against Mashall’s dreams). Marshall selfishly wanted to stay in the States and made the decision without ever asking Lily’s input. Lily, rightly hurt by this, angrily demanded to know why her dreams weren’t considered as important as Marshall’s. The argument ends with Lily sacrificing her dream of Italy for the sake of the family she loves, and Marshall apologizing for allowing his selfishness to come before his love for her.

However, upon learning that Lily is carrying their 2nd child, Marshall exclaims:

“Lily, we have to [go to Italy]! You’re gonna live in Rome, and you’re gonna get your dreambecause you’re giving me mine, again.”

Cue tear cascade.

Lily had already given up her dream of Italy to support her husband and their (now growing) family. That was a very, VERY difficult thing for her and she knew she’d wrestle with that baggage for the rest of her life. But she did it. Why? Because she loves Marshall and their family enough to sacrifice of herself.

And in that instance, Marshall realized his erroneous thinking. The whole season, he was focused solely on how he could convince Lily to make the sacrifice because his dream was, selfishly, what he wanted.

Until news of the baby. News of the baby's existence caused Marshall to instantly realize his priorities were skewed. A judgeship was not his dream. It’d be a nice goal to reach, but Marshall’s dream was, and always has been, to have a big family, the same as he’d grown up surrounded by. Family is Marshall’s true dream, and he recognized that Lily had known (and been working towards) this all along. Lily had always sacrificed for their shared dream of family, while Marshall simply enjoyed the fruits of that sacrifice.

Realizing this, he took responsibility for sacrificing. He wanted Lily to have the same opportunity to grasp her dreams because it’s what she’d always done for him. He loved her and their family to the point of sacrificing the biggest goal he’s ever set for himself: judgeship. He pushed his fear of leaving New York aside and trusted that his love for his family would be sufficient to weather the journey.

They are like the married couple in O. Henry’s story The Gift of the Magi. Lily willingly handed over her hair (Italy) and Marshall gave up his watch (the judgeship). Deep, personal sacrifices in both cases that were gift wrapped in love.

And Marshall only understood this lesson after rearranging his priorities into their proper order: Lily first, family second, self third. What caused the paradigm shift? News of the baby and his overabundance of love and excitement.

THAT is why my body rocked with sobs. Marshall’s response was what I’ve always envisioned for myself as a child – my future husband being just as excited and joyous as Marshall at news of a pregnancy… my future husband seeing these children as dreams come true. I had visions of him jumping up and down in the bathroom with me as two little pink lines surfaced from a plastic stick.

I cried because my husband was so diametrically opposed to Marshall in this.

There was no moment of joy when he learned of Myla. There was no realization that his priorities were misaligned. There was no moment of clarity in which he appreciated the terrible sacrifice I make on a daily basis so his dreams can be sought after. Instead, there was disgust, fear, annoyance and frustration.

How that wounds my heart.

My dream, from my very first memories, revolve solely around a family. Myla was, in many ways, my final chance at that family. So when I mourn for Myla, I fully understand that I’m mourning for her and all the other children I’ve been denied.

And I was angry. Frustrated. Jeal﻿ous. Desperate. All because of a television series that showcased the response I long for but will never have. Not even﻿ with Vincent. On both counts, John’s first reaction was fear and annoyance. Disbelief.

Never love. Never joy.

﻿And that is what absolutely kills me.

I felt so unappreciated that I free-fell into an intense depression. My mind wondered if John even loved me at all. How could someone who loves me simultaneously seem to hate me so much?

Do I think John hates me? Of course not. But in that moment, it felt that way. Maybe because I hated myself being in this situation. I don't know. It's easier for me to turn the upset feelings inward rather than outward.

Anyway,﻿ after the show finished, we watched a ﻿30 minute comedy to lighten the mood. It worked well enough for John to think things were okay. I was sour, though. The self-loathing, anger, jealousy and despair were percolating in my mind the whole time. So instead of watching another show, I went to bed. Not that I was going to sleep. Lord knows I wouldn't be doing much sleeping. But at least I could shut myself off in the dark.

John came up after me. He grabbed me close in bed and snuggled there. He's a snuggler. I hate snuggling. Loathe it. It's okay for all of three seconds before I get annoyed and want my space back. However, I allowed it because I knew that was his way of trying to make me feel better. I knew he needed to feel like he was helping. Maybe that's all he thought he could do. After all, John responds to touch, so it makes sense why he'd think I would react the same.

Anyway (and really, Mom, if you're reading this, just go ahead and avert your eyes), I realized in that moment that I did need John. I needed to feel loved, because there was a part of me (the logical side?) that understood he loved me, but my heart was so full of hurt and grief that I couldn't feel it. I couldn't process tha﻿t he could love me given the broken and hurting state I was in.

So I kissed John. I wanted him to kiss me back, to give me some tangible sign that he loved me. He dutifully kissed me, but laid back on his pillow. I pulled his face back to mine and whispered, "No. Make love to me."

I don't normally do that. I'm not the romantic type who whispers sweet nothings into dusky skies as my hair whips gracefully in a gentle breeze. But in that moment, I recognized the marital act of making love as the only balm to soothe the aching desolation in my heart. I needed my husband to love me. I needed him to physically, emotionally and spiritually LOVE me, and a few pecks on the cheek weren't going to cut it. Not when I was feeling so incredibly unloved.

That was the first time I've ever "needed" sex. I've enjoyed sex, sure. I've wanted sex, definitely. But I can't remember a time in which I urgently needed to give the fullness of myself and receive the fullness of my husband in the way that only married love can do. Sex isn't just some repetitive thrusting based solely on biology. That we, as a people, have turned it into so base a commodity is a travesty. Looking at sex as a means to better know and understand the love of my husband... it was eye-opening for me.

When the pain of loss seems too great to bear, and when the grief comes coursing in to crush the very breath from your lungs, fix your eyes on the Blessed Mother as she gazes upon her Son, gasping away His Life for love of us.

Allow the tears to come. Offer your tears together with hers... hers that shine like diamonds and are collected by the angels as tokens of mercy.

Accept the emptiness as it threatens to swallow you. Allow the weight of desolation to shatter your heart - your very soul - but do not despair.

For where God destroys, He creates. These mournful remains can thus rejoice and offer themselves as ready sacrifice for the new Life that comes in their place.

"I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you." Ez. 36:26

Blessed Mother, be my strength. I am having a really, really hard time accepting Myla's absence right now.

That television show... it was as if I was being pinned to a surgical table to have my heart sliced open by a scalpel.

But I see, I see. The tears wash away the clutter from my eyes, and the crushing grief just reminds me that I have something left to offer. It is yours... the pain and tears that echo softly your own. Tender Mother, hold her for me. Hold her and tell her all the things that I never got the chance to say. Allow her to be the delight of your Son since she could not be the delight of mine. Bring her often to see her Father so that He can tell her about the Daddy she left behind. Guide me daily with Vincent so that I can be worthy of meeting her one day.

Grief, folks. It still exists. Every day. Sometimes you're granted respite. Sometimes you're asked to experience it more keenly. But it's always there.

That is at it should be. There can be no grief if there is not, first, love. And love is forever.

I love these two women. Dearly. Nanny, in bed, is John's paternal grandmother. Gram, the woman holding her hand, is John's maternal grandmother.

These two women have known each other longer than their children have been dating (and eventually married). Their friendship goes back more than 40 years.

Seeing them look after one another all these years has been an absolute privilege. The fact that my family is lucky enough to still have them is blessing enough, but to see the love they have for each other is a blessing of indescribable magnitude.

In fact, it is their love for one another that helped build the strong family I know and love. It was never an "our side vs. your side" type of relationship. They understood when their children became involved that they were, in fact, one unit whose sole purpose was supporting and loving the family that grew out of that union.

And what a splendid job they've done.

Seeing Gram holding Nanny's hand and telling her to stay strong and hold close to the Faith - it moved me to tears. I kept blinking them away, determined to be strong for them - these two women who have been impossibly strong for us.

I snapped this photo as Gram was telling her, "Now you get strong so we can have ourselves some pound cake."

She turned her attention back to Nanny and kissed her along her hairline. "I love you, Lena. I'm here."

Then she sat back down to continue her vigil alongside her two daughters, myself, and Uncle Frankie.

For several moments I couldn't speak. Speaking would've required the use of my throat, but the lump of unuttered emotion trapped there made it impossible. So I sat next to Nan, holding her hand, just offering a silent prayer of thanksgiving for these two incredible women and the example of love they gave to their families.

Love endures. These beautiful women are proof of that. God bless them now and always.

My husband's uncle, Bill Guarnere, passed away yesterday. To the world, he was "Wild Bill Guarnere" of HBO's documentary Band of Brothers, but to my husband and our family, he was just "Uncle Billy."

Uncle Billy, even to his last, earned the moniker 'wild' for good reason. I laugh when I think of it, because it seems like all the Guarnere men followed faithfully after him as a result. His sense of humor, his disregard for "keeping up appearances" and simply telling it like it was, and his fierce love of family and loyalty to friends can all be seen - underscored - in the line of Guarnere men he inspired (my husband included).

So given how much they all looked up to him and revered his status as patriarch of the family, it was a terrible blow to hear news he had passed suddenly on Saturday.

At the same time Uncle Billy was being rushed to the hospital, a good chunk of the Guarnere clan was already at the hospital tending to another one of our own... the one you won't hear news stories about or see documentaries on, but the one who, even from her hospital bed, unites the entire family in love and devotion. Her name is Lena, and she is Uncle Billy's sister-in-law. She's currently doing battle with pneumonia and could benefit from some prayers if you'd all be so kind.

Anyway, I bring Nan up for two reasons in reference to Uncle Billy. Both showcase, in my mind, the type of love (and bit of humor) Uncle Billy always showed to his family.

On Friday morning, Uncle Mike, Nanny's son, called Uncle Billy to set a date to grab coffee. Uncle Mike apologized for not being around, but Uncle Billy waved him off the phone and said, "Don't you worry about me. Go take care of your mother. She needs you right now."

Of course he'd say that. Uncle Billy didn't care about himself. He knew Nan needed Uncle Mike, so he sacrificed time with his nephew so he could be near her. I'm sure if he were able, he'd've been at her bedside, too. That's just how Uncle Billy is.

Which leads me to reason number two.

I spent five hours with Nanny on Saturday. Several other family members were standing vigil as well. Two times Nan brought up Uncle Billy, and here's where I imagine his sense of humor came in to play.

The first time, my Aunt Donna was leaning over Nan to see if she'd recognize her. Nan affirmed she recognized her, but she insisted that her husband was between the two of them. She asked, "Why is my husband here?"

Aunt Donna looked at me and asked if she'd heard her correctly. I smiled and said, "Yup. She's asking about Pop Pop."

A few moments later, she asked again, but then she said, "Bill is in the way. Get out of the way."

I looked at Aunt Donna, but she was talking to her sister. Grandma Gloria, however, seemed to have heard her, and she smiled back at me and nodded. I thought it was funny that Gram heard her (given how terrible her hearing is) but my two aunts did not. I thought Nan might've been talking about a nurse or something.

Gram holding Nanny's hand. These two women are responsible for the family I have today. I love them as much as I love my own Grandmom who watches us from heaven.

About an hour or so later, I was in the room with Nanny, myself. She'd finally nodded off, and I'd sent Uncle Mike and Uncle Frankie to eat dinner. I used that time to pray at Nan's side, holding her hand. I had just finished the Three Beautiful Prayers when she jolted awake.

I thought she might've been startled by the beeping across the hall. She looked at me and I said, "Morning, Nan. You feeling okay?"

She said, "Yeah. I feel alright."

I asked, "Do you want me to grab you some lemon water?"

She said, "No. Bill brought me up."

Again with this Bill person. It never even occurred to me she could've been talking about Uncle Billy. I thought she was confused, and I said, "No, Nanny. You were sleeping. Is your mouth dry? Let me get some water."

As I spooned the lemon water into her mouth, she stared past me and asked an unseen person why he was still standing around. She reached her hand out and said something along the lines of "Get on, already. Go get my husband."

Again, my heart hurt because I feared Nanny was starting to see visitors from the other side of the veil. I said, "Nanny, who are you talking to? Who do you want to go get Pop Pop?"

She looked at me and said nothing. She just leaned back in the bed and sighed.

A few hours later, we got news that Uncle Billy had passed. I didn't put two and two together until I was on my way home from the hospital. I honestly think when his soul left his body, he stopped off to strengthen Nanny for her journey. She, in reply, waved him off and sent him to reunite with her husband, his brother, to begin enjoying Heaven together.

So please, say a few prayers for the repose of Uncle Billy's soul and the strength of my Nan. Pray also for the broken hearts of my husband's family. Uncle Billy was revered by them, and for good reason. He was more than just a soldier - he was the force that bonded so many of them together. His charisma commanded the attention of everyone, and his generosity and love commanded their respect.

My heart is broken for them because I know how deeply this loss is felt. And to experience losing Uncle Billy in the midst of watching Nanny deteriorate... it's just a terribly difficult road to walk right now. So please, keep them all entrenched in prayer. Pray for their comfort, their peace, and Divine strength. They will need much of that in the coming days and weeks. We all will.

Not too often you hear the words "Lent" and "tripod" put together, but it was a concept I introduced a few weeks back to my CCD students.

So often you hear "What are you giving up for Lent?" I wanted them to understand that this wasn't a futile repeat of New Year's resolutions. Lent is a time for sacrifice.

One of my favorite quotes about sacrifice is this:

Love transforms suffering into sacrifice.

According to this, two things must be present for a sacrifice: Love and Suffering.

So for Lent, while they were all trying to figure out what they'd "give up," I asked them to also figure out a specific person or intention they'd be offering that sacrifice for. Giving up candy bars during Lent is great, but if you're just substituting the candy bars with milkshakes, nothing is accomplished.

Instead, if you give up candy bars, use the $.60 you save every day and donate it to the homeless man you pass on the street each day. Put it into a piggy bank and at the end of Lent, use it to buy your little sister that iPad app she's been dying to try. Better yet, secretly use it to buy a slew of your favorite prayer cards / medals and leave them in the back of your parish church for parishioners to share!

Little things add up, and as long as they're adding up to love, they're perfect sacrifices for Lent.

With that in mind, my students started coming up with some great ideas:

I'll sacrifice [Popular TV Show] and use that extra time to help my Mom clean the house

I'll sacrifice the $1.00 I'm given for school and put it towards the Rice Bowl collection

I'll sacrifice 1 recess per week and use that time to pray for Father ____________

These are my favorites. It took a lot of leading, but when they finally arrived at their Lenten gifts (as I've been calling them), I think they really understood the purpose behind the practice.

Once they got this foundation set, I tied it together through Jesus.

We give up things, or sacrifice, for our community out of love. However, we don't do that for ourselves. We do it through Jesus. We unite our sufferings with Jesus' Passion. We don't sacrifice during Lent just because that's what you do during Lent. We do it so Jesus doesn't have to suffer alone. We share the burden with Him.

I likened it to riding a roller coaster for the first time. They all seemed to understand that. None of them wanted to ride a coaster by themselves the first time they went. They were scared! Instead, they asked a friend to come along so they could share the burden of fear.

During Lent, we consent to share the burden of suffering with Jesus. We consent to take part in the Passion, because as the Church, we are members of His Body, and we want to follow where He, the Head, leads us. During Lent, He is leading us to Salvation through the Cross.

It was like a little light bulb clicked over their heads. I started seeing them slowly understanding the concept of sharing in the Lenten journey. Each Mass isn't a recreation of the Passion so much as a time-machine that brings us back to the Foot of the Cross, time and time again. Lent helps us refocus on this by bringing the reality of Christ's Sacrifice into our daily lives (in a much more manageable way).

Just as Christ suffered for love of us, we, too, must suffer for love of others, uniting those sacrifices to the Sacrifice of Christ.

This is the Lenten Tripod analogy I used with my students, and I have to say, I'm really pleased with how well they took that lesson to hear.

Next week we'll check in to see how they're doing with their gifts. :)

This showed up in my Twitter feed this afternoon. What a great question! Wouldn't suicide be preferable to the long, drawn out misery of the Crucifixion?

It would be preferable only if focus is avoiding pain.

However, Jesus wasn't focused on avoiding pain. He was focused on opening the gates of Heaven, and the only way to do that was to offer Himself as sacrifice. His acceptance of the Cross is akin to jumping in front of a bullet to save humanity from certain death. Sure the bullet hurt - a LOT - but His sacrifice meant humanity could one day reunite with Him in Heaven.

A lot of people forget that Heaven's doors were closed to us after Adam and Eve chose to remove themselves from God through sin. Because of that choice, Heaven was no longer our birthright; instead of inheriting Heaven, we inherited sin.

Jesus, by living completely united to God the Father, restored to us our birthright through accepting even death on a Cross. He suffered the torment that is due each of us so that we would not have to. If we, too, choose to offer ourselves in union with Christ, God accepts even our tiniest acts of love as gifts and welcomes us back into His Family.

Suicide would have robbed Him of His ability to endure this full measure of sacrifice. Each pinch of a thorn, each crack of the whip, each stubbed toe along the Via Dolorosa acted as one more act of reparation to appease Divine Justice. And it was through even the wound to His side that His Precious Blood flowed forth, effectively anointing us as His children.

Remember, blood is the very essence of life. Jesus gave to us His Life, unto His very last drop of Blood. His Life is eternal, and thus we are able to take part in eternity with Him.

Suicide shows a lack of trust in God's Plan for us. It stops God from being able to help us grow and love deeper.

God the Father needed Jesus to walk this difficult road because someone had to show humanity how to suffer for love of others. Jesus perfectly showed how much we should love one another: Give completely of ourselves despite pain, humiliation, derision, and even death.

As St. John of the Cross has said, "[Love] is the bearing of another's burdens."

Jesus, in the perfect way, bore the burden of sin. And God the Father, in effect, sacrificed His own Son so that we may one day be joined in Heaven.